


Ori's Suitor

by Chelidona (Hobbity)



Series: Family Affairs [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Ori, Background Fili/Kili relationship, Fili and Kili are cousins, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, awkward dwalin, past Fili/Ori, this is mainly fluff nothing really happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin is desperately in love with his best friend's nephew's ex-boyfriend. Ori is oblivious as Dwalin comes to visit him, but very happy because there are some bullies in his street and he hopes Dwalin will scare them off. Also, he hasn't got a clue how to live alone so maybe Dwalin can help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dwalin visits

Ori Risic, the most socially awkward postdoc at Manchester University, flitted nervously through his apartment. Since he moved to Manchester from Auckland, only a short few months ago, the only visitors he had were his brother, Nori, who lived in London, and once a visit from Fíli and Kíli, who had helped him with his furniture. He shuddered a bit as he remembered that visit. Fíli was his ex-boyfriend, who had moved to Dublin. And then got into a relationship with his cousin. Fíli had assured him that Kíli was very friendly and lots of fun, but he just looked so scary. And then they had a fight while they visited Ori. He hadn’t liked that. What was the social protocol when one hosted a couple, that was at odds with each other? Fíli had told him that they made up. Ori was proud of himself that he could tell Fíli that he was glad to hear it. He was still not completely over Fíli, even though they split up a year ago, but he knew that he wasn’t good enough for Fíli and that there was no way he would ever get him back.

And now Dwalin, whom he had met when he visited Dublin before moving to Manchester, came to visit him. That had been Fíli’s idea. Ori was still a bit confused. Dwalin was big and scary, and a wonderful storyteller, but Ori wasn’t quite sure why he stopped on his way to Scotland to visit Ori, the ex-boyfriend of his best friend’s nephew. Fíli had explained that they hoped at least some of the bullies in Ori’s street would be scared off if they saw Ori was friends with someone like Dwalin. That was good for Ori, but he still didn’t get why Dwalin had agreed. 

During the phone call Kíli had shouted that Ori should make sure to have beer when Dwalin visited. Of course once Ori had gone to the shop he remembered how many different kinds of beer there were. Was Dwalin Scottish or Irish? Would Guinness be the right choice or an insult, because it was so cliché? Did certain brands of beer have social connotations? Was there beer that would be offensive to Scottish people? If Dwalin was Scottish, he hadn’t quite understood if Balin and Dwalin were Irish with Scottish connections, or Scottish with Irish connections. Did that mean that he wouldn’t drink English beer? Or was there beer that was effeminate? Dwalin looked like someone who would care about that.

He had to text Fíli again, feeling very embarrassed. Now he hoped he had stocked the right kind and he had also neatly arranged the take-out menus he had collected. He usually didn’t look at them but ordered his food online, but Dwalin seemed old-fashioned, so maybe that was more appropriate. He couldn’t cook, Dori had always cooked for them. He missed Dori’s cooking.

 

Dwalin’s ferry arrived at 23:30 in Liverpool on Thursday. It would take him roughly two hours to get to Ori, they estimated. He needed to get off the ferry and then Ori lived on the other side of Manchester where he needed to find a space to park. But they were both night owls, so Ori had assured Dwalin that it would all right. Nevertheless, he nearly jumped out of his chair in fright when his doorbell rang. He really needed to stop being so jittery. If somebody came to torture and kill him, they wouldn’t ring the bell. He laughed weakly at his own internal joke, as he went to buzz the door open. It was of course Dwalin on the other side. Not that the man wasn’t a bit scary. He smiled now though as he came in. Ori nervously offered beer and Dwalin let himself fall on the couch.

“Beer’d be lovely, cheers.”

Ori went to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle. He was glad that Fíli had texted him earlier to remind him to put the beer in the fridge. He wouldn’t have known. It was the kind of knowledge a man like Dwalin probably expected every man to have. On the other hand, Dwalin looked like someone who expected every man to know how to crack a skull. 

He gingerly carried the bottle to the living room and then remembered that he forgot the bottle opener. Dwalin assured him it wasn’t necessary and opened the bottle with his hand. Ori nearly squeaked. But he didn’t. Instead he watched in fascination as Dwalin gulped down the beer. As he looked around, nervously, his eyes were arrested by the mattress in the corner. He coughed apologetically.

“Is … is it okay for you to sleep on an inflatable mattress? You could have my bed, and I could ….”

“Rubbish. Dee I look like a faizart?”

“Um …. No. Not at all.” Ori didn’t even know what that meant. He fiddled with his jumper. It was a bad habit. Nori had told him off when he had come to visit here. He tried to stop fiddling, but then he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Dwalin set the beer bottle down with a clang.

“I reckon we better turn in.”

“Yes, good idea.” Ori smiled nervously. “Um, yes, help yourself to anything you need. I just … I’ll be in my bedroom. You know. If there is anything. And. Um. Good night?”

Dwalin actually smiled and nodded firmly.

“Dinna fash. Good night, Ori.”

He stopped himself from squeaked and scurried off to his bedroom. Good. That was the first hurdle.

 

The next day, Ori had go to work in the morning, while Dwalin announced that he would look in on some cousin. Ori wondered why Dwalin was not staying with him, but before he could make any social blunder by asking, Dwalin told him that his cousin was an old man, a retired doctor, and nearly deaf. Apparently he had never liked having people around too much, and now that he only suffered his brother and his family for more than a few hours.

 

Nori called just after lunch.

“So, did your scary visitor arrive?”

“Yes, yes he did. He’s visiting a cousin now. I …. He insists on sleeping on the mattress, Nori, but he is older than me, and I think …”

“You think too fucking much. If the man wants to sleep on the inflatable bed, let him sleep on the sodding inflatable bed.”

“Yes, but he’s here to help me you know, with those bullies? Fíli thinks it might help if they see I have strong friends? I know it seems so silly, but he _is_ stopping by just for that, so …”

“But you’re scared of him to, eh? How long is he staying? Do I need to come?”

“No, I think I’m all right, I know it is silly to be scared of him, Fíli likes him. Fíli said ….”

“Stop it with this ‘Fíli’ nonsense. For fuck’s sake, Ori, it’s worse now than when he was your boyfriend. Fíli’s word is not the bloody gospel.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m more interested in that Dwalin bloke. I don’t fancy the idea of you having to play host to someone you’re uncomfortable with.”

Ori tried to laugh. “You know I’m uncomfortable with most people.”

“Yes.” Nori seemed annoyed, but Ori couldn’t make out why. Nori had always been harder to read than Dori. “Anyhow, I’ll see you soon. I’ve got to be in Sheffield next week, I’ll pop over to Manchester, eh?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good. And just let me know if that Dwalin becomes a nuisance. I’ll come and sort him out if I need to.”

“I’m sure it’s not necessary. I’m 30, you know. I can take care of myself.”

“No, you bloody can’t.”

There was a pregnant pause, then he heard Nori sigh.

“I’m sorry, Ori. I know it’s not your fault, Dori’s an overbearing twat. That’s why I ran all the bloody way to England.”

“Like me then.”

“Yea.” There was another pause. “Only you don’t feel guilty because you left your younger brother behind.”

Ori swallowed, feeling very twitchy. What should he say now, Nori never said stuff like that, why did Nori say that now in such a serious voice, that wasn’t like Nori at all.

“I missed you,” Ori confessed then. He had missed Nori. Not the constant fighting with Dori though. That had been terrible.

“Well ….” Nori sounded just as uncomfortable as Ori now. He had never been good with feelings. “Anyways, as you said, you‘re thirty, and this bloke was sent by someone you trust. So I’m sure it will be fine, eh?”

“Thank you.”

He looked at his phone as the call ended. Nori was right. He was thirty, Dwalin was send by Fíli and although he looked scary he had always been very nice when Ori saw him.

 

“I forgot to give you your present,” Dwalin announced quite unexpectedly when he showed up again. Ori squeaked, but hoped Dwalin hadn’t heard it. Dwalin smiled a little, that was good, and shoved a plastic bag in his hand.

“Fíli said you’ve forgot to buy tea towels and fiddly nonsense like that,” Dwalin explained. Intrigued Ori opened the bag and pulled out several good quality tea towels. One was decorated with shamrocks and one had several Irish symbols on the fringe, but there were four that were just good linen. He smiled. 

“They’re great, thank you.”

He really didn’t have any tea towels. Usually he just waited until the dishes dried in the air. Maybe it would be nice to be able to dry them.

 

A bit later he shyly asked Dwalin if he was hungry. It turned out he was, and Ori produced his take-out menus. Dwalin just glanced at them.

“The menus are nice, but we hafta scare yer bullies off, right?” Dwalin asked gruffly so Ori nodded shyly.

“Then we need to get our grub outside somewhere,” the big man decided. “Are there any chippies nearby? Or, better, a pub?”

Ori had to confess that he thought there was a pub nearby but he had never entered it. He wasn’t sure if they served food. Dwalin suggested that they check on the internet and Ori felt really dense. That should have occurred to him.

The pub didn’t serve food, to Ori’s relief. He didn’t want to go to a pub. Instead they walked to the nearest “chippie” where Dwalin got a generous amount of fried cod (two large pieces) and chips, as well as mushy peas. They did encounter some of the bullies in his street, who did leave them alone to Ori’s relief.

 

Once they unpacked it all in the kitchen, Dwalin shook his head, sighing.

“Of course it’s a bleeding shame to buy this in a cheap chippie. We’re near the sea, we should make this fresh.”

“Um, I, um, I don’t cook.” Ori admitted. Dwalin narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. He just took two plates from the kitchen cupboard and Ori cursed himself. That would have been his job as a host. 

 

Dwalin glared at his cod as if that would transform it somehow (Ori was sure that it would have, had the fish still been alive). “That shit’s only fit for them muntered neds crawling home from the pub,” he announced.

“It’s a bit greasy,” Ori answered, not quite sure what Dwalin meant.

“A bit, my arse. It’s pure grease, that’s what it is.” He stood. “We cannae have ye eat that. Where’s them menus?”

Ori timidly produced his take-away menus again. Dwalin made him pick one and they ordered pizza.

 

The next morning, a Saturday, they went to Sainsbury’s. Dwalin insisted once he’d seen the empty cupboards. He announced that he would teach Ori how to make a nice fried breakfast at least. Ori didn’t dare to object. He also had to admit that cooking was quite possibly a skill he should acquire now that he lived alone. So he let Dwalin teach him how to make a simple beef stew for Saturday evening and on Sunday morning they cooked what Dwalin called a “Full Scottish Breakfast” and Ori called “more than enough food for a day.” It consisted of tea, fruit juice, yoghurt, cereals, fruits, oatcakes with jam, porridge (with plenty of butter), toast with butter, marmalade and honey, broiled tomato, baked beans, bacon, potato scones, sausage, kippers, sautéed mushrooms and fried egg. Ori was glad they hadn’t been able to acquire black pudding as well. They broke in the tea towels when they cleaned up after that excess.

 

“When I’m back, I expect you to cook me breakfast,” Dwalin told him sternly, as he got in his van.

“Sure,” Ori squeaked. “Um, so you will stop by on your way back?”

“Of course, that was the plan,” he said gruffly. Then he frowned. “Unless you dinna want me to.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I’d be delighted.”

“Grand.” Dwalin smiled broadly and didn’t look scary at all anymore. He closed his van door with a clang and was off. Ori looked after him until he had disappeared around the corner, then he turned back to his apartment. He should have snatched his bag for university, so he would have been ready to go. 

Of course, one of the boys who liked to taunt him was leaning next to the door of the house. Wasn’t he supposed to be in school or something? He leered at Ori.

“Oy, was that bloke your boyfriend?”

“No, he is not my boyfriend,” he said as firmly as he could, even though he really just wanted to run. “He is a good friend, that’s all.”

He quickly turned back to his door and went in as quickly as he could. Then he took a deep breath once he leant against his front door. His heart was beating furiously. That had been scary. Should he have said Dwalin was his boyfriend? Would they have beaten him up for being gay or would they have left him alone, because he had a scary boyfriend to defend him? Was scary boyfriend better than scary friend? Why did no one tell him those essential things?

It might be nice to have a scary boyfriend, he thought as he went to clear away the beer bottles. He wouldn’t have to be so scared then.

 

Two weeks later he got a message from Dwalin, asking him if he could come on the weekend. Of course he could. Ori was glad he still had enough beer, although he was a bit unsure about his ability to cook breakfast. He had given it a shot since Dwalin left, but so far he had not managed to make eggs without bits of the shell in them. And the sausages seemed to be made to burn in the pan. But he was proud of his ability to cook porridge. Maybe he could discreetly leave the other tasks to Dwalin.

 

Dwalin had brought a toast rack from Scotland as well as two more tea towels. Ori was a bit confused as to what he was supposed to do with all those tea towels. This time, one was covered with the names of several traditional Scottish “delicacies” such has haggis, kippers, and porridge, the other sported a thistle. To Ori’s slight horror he had also brought haggis. However, he didn’t know how to politely decline Dwalin’s offer to cook the thing for dinner. Dwalin used the opportunity to teach him how to cook potatoes, an instruction that was a bit rushed last time when Dwalin had cooked them to make potato scones.

 

He realised when they were eating dinner, that he wasn’t scared of Dwalin anymore. It was hard to be scared of someone who patiently explained something as easy as boiling potatoes to somebody as slow and clumsy as Ori. And who, incidentally, could already be on his way home rather than cooking said Ori dinner. And the Haggis was actually all right.

He dared to ask about Dwalin’s business in Scotland. Quite unexpectedly, he also got the reason for the frankly puzzling way the man spoke, which was sometimes very clear and then suddenly his accent would be so thick that Ori barely understood him. His language was, Dwalin explained, a mix of Scottish dialect (West and Glasgow), Scottish slang, Irish slang and the polished language his brother and Thorin used, an odd mixture stemming from the fact that his life had been divided between two countries and two very different social classes. He was born to wealthy parents in Dublin, but moved to the west of Scotland, his mother’s home country when he was young and grew up there on what could only be called an estate, the one he had inspected just now. From there he went to university, made bad friends, was taken to Ireland by Balin, made more bad friends but eventually pulled himself together.

“I can talk posh,” he assured Ori. “It just feels like I’m acting and when I talk like a jakie, it annoys Balin. He’s so snobbish.”

Ori could fully understand the urge to annoy an older brother. He wished he had the courage to annoy Dori more often.

“I don’t mind,” he assured Dwalin blushing. “Although I don’t understand everything, you know, I’m from New Zealand.” He sighed. “I have problems here in Manchester. Half of the insults those boys shout after me I don’t even understand.”

Dwalin shrugged. “Homophobic slurs, most likely. Don’t pay attention.”

“Um …” Certainly Dwalin knew he was gay? Didn’t the family know that he was Fíli ex-boyfriend? Dwalin looked at him.

“Of course yer actually gay.”

“Yea.” Ori blushed. “Good thing they don’t know it’s actually true.”

“Neds don’t give a shit, they just bully ye.” Dwalin still looked stern, but there was something else underneath it. “Makes them feel better.”

“I … I guess? And you … you … you don’t mind?”

Dwalin looked at him as if he’d grown to heads.

“Naw. My best mate’s gay. And me … I’m bisexual.”

Ori blinked. He’d never in his whole life came out this casually to anyone. Even other gay people.

“You’re …”

“Bisexual. Like Kíli.” He shrugged. “Only figured that out a few years ago though.” He eyed Ori. “Ye haven’t been worried, have ye?”

“No. I …. I sort of assumed you knew already that I was gay. Sorry, it was a silly question. Just … you know, Fíli and Kíli didn’t want us to tell anyone they’re together, I was just a bit unsure …”

“Those numpties were worried cause they’re first cousins. Not because they’re both blokes.”

“I see.”

Dwalin chuckled deeply. “They reckoned we’re glaikit auld gowks.”

He laughed harder when Ori just looked confused. “Sorry, just winding you up. They thought we’re stupid old fools. As if Kíli could hide anything.”

Ori had to admit that it was true. They turned in soon after that.

 

He was a bit sad to see Dwalin go the next day. It had been nice to have a visitor who wasn’t his older brother, much as he loved Nori, or his ex-boyfriend who started a fight with his current boyfriend. He liked Dwalin, he decided after Dwalin’s van had disappeared around the corner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you didn't guess, Dwalin's linguistic idiosyncrasies are an excuse for me to use wonderful words I picked up during my research for this story without the need to make his language consistend in any way ;)


	2. Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Ori visit each other and grow closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is still reading this: Yes, I thought myself that I had abandoned this story, but I felt a bit guilty about that. Seeing Adam Brown and Graham McTavish at MagicCon rekindled my interest in their characters though, so I finally felt inspired enough to continue this story :)

**Dwalin POV**

Dwalin was ridiculously nervous while he waited at Dublin airport for Ori to arrive. He knew he was the laughing stock of the family now (Thorin had bagged Bilbo, so they needed a new target). His brother was actually leaving his house on a weekday. Balin never accepted weekday invitations to dinner. Only now he had. Just to see Dwalin make a fool out of himself.

He knew he was making a fool of himself. Ori was a full 20 years younger than himself. It was ridiculous. He had always looked down on old men with young wives (or boyfriends for that matter). And here he was, mooning over young Ori. Of course, he would never have acted on his feelings had Fíli and Kíli not practically thrown the opportunities in his lap.

Fíli at least seemed to approve and he was Ori’s ex; that was something. Dwalin didn’t have long to dwell on his thoughts though. Ori emerged from the gates and looked around anxiously. He was simply too adorable with his wide eyes and the ubiquitous big hand-knitted sweater. The little smile he gave when he recognized Dwalin warmed his heart.

Dwalin had noticed that Ori had been scared of him the first time he came to Manchester. That had hurt, even though he didn’t let Ori see it. All his hard work to show his best side when they met in Dublin hadn’t paid off. But during the second visit in Manchester, Ori seemed to relax around him. Maybe Ori would never see Dwalin in a romantic light, but at least he wasn’t scared anymore.

“Come on then, we dinnae want to make Dis wait with dinner.” Dwalin greeted the little man roughly, to hide the surge of affection he was feeling. He could tell that he had overdone it when Ori blushed.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t book an earlier flight, I …”

“Dinnae fash. I just meant tae say, we shouldnae dawdle. Here, let me take this.”

Ori only had a light carry-on luggage on wheels, but Dwalin took it anyway. It was the gesture that counted really.

Ori thanked him profusely, when they got into Dwalin’s old Landrover.

Ori seemed slightly confused why exactly they needed to have dinner with Dwalin’s cousins Thorin and Dis (Fíli’s uncle and aunt), as well as Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin’s brother Balin, Balin’s wife and Bilbo, all people only vaguely connected to him apart from Fíli, but he was too docile not to go along with it. Dwalin hoped it also gave him a sense of a support network in the Northern hemisphere, stretching beyond his brother Nori in London and his ex-boyfriend Fíli.

Nevertheless, he whisked Ori away before Thorin could get the idea of serving Whiskey after a weeknight dinner and drove Ori, Fíli and Kíli home. It would have been odd for him to offer his own couch to Ori, and Dwalin was also almost relieved not to have Ori around him. Although he also wanted to be close to him.

This was not how he had expected to feel at age 51.

*

He met Ori for coffee the next morning, another activity he rarely indulged in. He had frightened the barista when he insisted that he wanted the most normal black coffee they had and picked the most normal looking cake on display, before he sat down at a tiny table to wait for Ori.

Dwalin had bought presents for Ori again. 

After he’d seen Ori’s flat he thought that some pottery might be nice. (Or maybe that was the suggestion of Balin’s wife, Moira. He wouldn’t admit that though). So Dwalin had gone to the little workshop of one of Moira’s friends and bought a lovely vase. The entire workshop had made him a bit uncomfortable, it was all too fancy for him and he was scared that he would accidentally knock some pottery from the shelves whenever he moved in the cramped space. However, he had a feeling that this was the kind of thing somebody like Ori liked. He fiddled with the package now, not sure how Ori would receive it.

 

The little man ran into the coffee shop five minutes later and scanned the tables frantically, as if he was afraid Dwalin has already left. When he spotted him, he hurried over, flapping his arms like a little bird.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! There was a student at the university, he wanted to discuss his project with me, and …”

“Ye’re good.” Dwalin did his best to smile reassuringly. “Sit doon, what drink can I get ye?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly …” Ori began, but cowered a bit when Dwalin said, more gruffly than intended:

“I insist.”

“Um, Caramel Cream Frappucino? Small?”

Dwalin nodded as if he had any idea what that was. The barista did, and he also got a slice of lemon cake, he knew that Ori liked it, he had told him so in Manchester. Dwalin remembered everything Ori said.

Ori’s bright smile when he saw the treat was a good reward.

 

Dwalin pushed his package over feeling almost bashful.

“I found this,” he said, “I thought ye might have use fer it.”

“Oh!” Ori brightened. “Thank you! I’ve also got something for you, I’m sorry I didn’t have time to get it out of my luggage yesterday …”

“Why don’t ye open this first?” Dwalin suggested, as softly as he could when it looked like Ori was going to rummage in his bag for the present. The table was already quite full with their cups, plates and Dwalin’s present.

“Oh, sure!”

Ori smiled again, looking a bit more sure of himself. The smile broadened when he unpacked the vase.

“It’s beautiful! Thank you!” He touched the vase, following the floral pattern with his finger. “I do love flowers.”

“I’m glad.” Dwalin burst with pride. “I reckoned it fits yer flat.”

“It will! Let me just pack it again, so it won’t break …”

Ori fussed for a while, adorably clumsy, until the vase was safely stowed in his bag. Then he pulled out a flat package, untangling it from the yarn that had wrapped itself around it in Ori’s bag.

“This is for you.” Ori grinned cheekily now. The deep lines that appeared on his face, when he laughed or grinned still mesmerised Dwalin. It was too adorable. He curiously opened the present and laughed out loud. Tea towels. Two of them. One displayed a map of New Zealand, with a little Kiwi bird in the corner. The other was full of sheep.

“Ye know we have plenty of sheep in Scotland. And in Ireland.”

“Yea.” Ori still smiled and wriggled his eyebrows. “It wasn’t that easy though to get some New Zealand themed tea towels on short notice over here.”

“Fair enough. Thank ye. I’ll treasure them.”

Ori had no idea just how much he would. They would never be used for such a mundane task as drying dishes. They would be proudly displayed in his kitchen as token of affection by the object of his affections.

He then asked about Ori’s success at the university, where he gave a presentation. Listening to Ori, it was obvious to Dwalin that the young man was really too shy; he had been intimated by a few questions. Dwalin shook his head.

“Don’t heed them. They’re bullies. Like the ones in yer street, just posher.”

“No, you see ...” And Ori went on about how he had said something too ambiguously in his presentation, which must have confused a few listeners who asked questions that had nothing to do with his lecture or which seemed to apply that Ori had got something wrong. “And maybe I do,” he fretted.

“Or maybe they just wanted to make themselves look good.” Dwalin looked at him seriously, getting rid of all traces of his Scottish accent to make sure Ori understood him completely. “I don’t understand anything of what you do, but Fíli told me you’re some sort of genius. You just lack the confidence.”

“Yes, he always told me.” Ori ducked his head.

“And he’s right!” Dwalin exclaimed, again more forcefully than he meant do, but Ori didn’t even twitch this time, just looked at him with big eyes.

“It is just so hard …” He twiddles with his fingers. “You and Fíli, you are so strong, you know so much practical things … it must be easy for you to have confidence, nobody would dare to push you around.”

“I wouldn’t have done half the shit I’ve done, if I had been truly confident,” Dwalin admitted. “I just faked confidence, but I had this constant need to prove how tough I was. That’s not strength.”

Dwalin dared to pat Ori’s arm, relieved when Ori smiled at the gesture.

“It’s not?”

“No … in fact, you’re much stronger than I was at your age. You moved to the other side of world to pursue the job you love, and you’re not afraid to admit when you’re scared. And now you’re having coffee with a scary old man.”

Ori chuckled.

“You’re not scary.”

When Dwalin lifted his eyebrows, Ori blushed.

“I was scared when I first saw you, you are so big and your face is even fiercer than Kíli’s, but now you’re not scary.”

“That’s a relief.”

“You’re not offended?”

“Nah.” Dwalin shrugged and took a sip of his now cooled black coffee. “I can have that effect on people.”

They had to part ways shortly after that; Dwalin had to work and Ori had to promised Fíli and Kíli that he would do some shopping.

*

The next day, Dwalin felt thoroughly embarrassed, if not humiliated, after he had had dinner at Fíli and Kíli’s flat with Ori. He had actually admitted that he was scared of flying and he could see that the young rascals, Thorin’s nephew, thought that hilarious. Ori, sweet little Ori, had of course been very sympathetic. And when he expressed regret that Dwalin couldn’t fly over to Manchester, he had nearly come undone. Ori liked him. Maybe he would never love Dwalin as Dwalin loved him, but he liked him. And that was worth something.

 

Dwalin booked a flight only two days after Ori left. If he waited too long he would never do it. And this way it would only be a month until he saw Ori again.

 

 

**Ori POV**

 

Ori was standing at the arrival gate in Manchester, trying to make himself smaller than he already was. 

There were so many people here! And everyone was pushing to the front. He let himself be pushed to the back, hoping he would spot Dwalin anyway. The man was tall and big. And handsome. 

It felt a bit weird to Ori. He liked Dwalin but he had no idea how he, little Ori Risic, had apparently become friends with Dwalin Fundin. Ori’s life had been ridiculously boring and uneventful and he was too socially awkward to even greet shop assistants or look a bus driver in the eye. Dwalin had such a colourful past and he had such rock-hard confidence, whatever he said about having been insecure in the past. And yet he would spend an entire weekend just with Ori.

During the flight back from Dublin Ori had realised, much to his surprise, that he had developed a crush on Dwalin. The involuntary squeak that escaped him during the epiphany, had scared his seat neighbour, who inched as far away as he could from a furiously blushing Ori.

 

Ori now stood near the display with the times, but he soon discovered that he now was apparently in everyone’s way. Then he went to stand near the benches, hoping to find a free spot eventually. Once somebody pushed their trolley into him, he slunk away to stand next to the newsagent. Again, he seemed to be in everyone’s way. He cursed inwardly. Surely, it was not normal for people to not even be able to figure out how to wait for someone at the arrivals? He glanced to the display again. The plane had landed and the baggage was delivered. So Dwalin should appear soon.

“Why are ye hiding here?” a deep voice boomed next to him and he literally jumped. His heart was still beating madly, as he realised that it was Dwalin’s voice. Dwalin seemed a bit contrite now.

“Sorry. Didnae mean to frighten you. Awright?”

“F-fine. Just …. Just didn’t expect you to find me, I’m so small and nondescript.”

“I’m tall enough to see over most heads and I thought you’d be somewhere at the fringe.”

Dwalin had lost his heavy accent again, his fluctuating language as fascinating as always.

“Right.” Ori managed a twitchy smile. “How was your flight?”

He still couldn’t believe that a man who was scared of flying would actually fly to Manchester just to visit him.

“Not too bad,” Dwalin admitted. Ori dared to smile a little.

“It’s really not scary, is it?”

“Still feels unnatural to me. Man was not meant to fly. I can’t imagine flying as far as New Zealand.”

Ori chuckled, it was funny that there he had been braver than the mighty Dwalin.

“I was more scared in the ferry,” he admitted as they made their way to the rental car services. Dwalin had succumbed to the indignity of flying, but had told Ori that he wouldn’t lower himself to the public transport system in England. So he had booked a rental car.

“The ferry?”

“Yea. When I went to Dublin with Dori, we took the ferry in Holyhead. He insisted on renting a car in England for our entire stay. It would’ve been more convenient to rent a car in Dublin, but he never listens.” Ori sighed. “Anyway, it takes hours and there is all this water underneath and I just kept thinking how easily the whole thing could sink.”

“Fair enough,” Dwalin agreed. By now they were at the counter for the rental cars and dropped the subject.

*

Ori nearly laughed when Dwalin pulled out a package from his bag as soon as they were in Ori’s flat. Surely that couldn’t be another present.

“I’ve got you a small present,” Dwalin announced confirming Ori’s suspicion.

“You really shouldn’t ….” Ori scratched his neck nervously. “I …”

This time, he didn’t have anything to offer Dwalin in return, but Dwalin still smiled.

“My pleasure. Go on, open it.”

Ori did so hesitantly. It was a tablecloth and two pots of honey.

“No tea towels?” he dared to tease and Dwalin grinned broadly.

“Nah, but the table-cloth was done by the same manufacturer as the first tea towels I gave you. Genuine Irish linen. Well. As genuine as it is these days. Flax being from France and the spinning done in the East as it is.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” He looked over to his cluttered table. “I’ll clear that, and then I’ll put it on. I should have thought about getting a table cloth myself really.”

He then brought his knitting basket and shyly asked if Dwalin liked the scarf he was working on; he didn’t say it had been intended to be a present for Dori, especially when Dwalin said he liked the colours and the pattern, simple combination of knit and garter squares. Dori was already drowning in Ori scarves anyway. 

 

This evening, Friday, Ori simply planned to cook dinner for Dwalin, to demonstrate that he had learned to be a bit more independent. A bit. All he could serve was pasta with a home-made bolognaise sauce and green salad with a homemade vinaigrette.

Dwalin praised both and took generous second servings, so his praise seemed genuine. And he smiled when Ori told him that he got all the ingredients for a fried breakfast.

“You know how to make a man happy, Ori.”

Ori chuckled.

“You taught me!”

It was almost as if Dwalin was flirting with him; Ori knew that couldn’t possibly be the case so he just chuckled again when Dwalin laughed and let his guest help with the washing up. 

 

After cleaning the kitchen, they watched some football on the telly; Ori still wasn’t sure about all the rules, so Dwalin explained what was going on. Ori didn’t mind sport … he had never been interested until Fíli had explained Rugby to him and Ori had been fascinated by his enthusiasm for the game. Listening to Dwalin was even better, he was a much better storyteller than Fíli and soon ignored the game in favour of entertaining Ori with interesting football anecdotes, some of which illustrated the rules he had just explained and some of which were just interesting or downright funny.


	3. Enjoying Manchester

After those visits, Dwalin and Ori called each other regularly, but Dwalin always made sure he didn’t even hint at his feelings for Ori. He was, after all, much older than Ori and he did not want to take advantage of his loneliness. 

So he encouraged Ori to join the lgbtquiap club at Manchester University. And spent an interesting thirty minutes assuring Ori, that those events would not all be sex-related and he would not be required to take part in semi-public sex. 

Apparently Ori suffered from the delusion that all gay men, apart from himself and Fíli (who was still a god to Ori and Dwalin was insanely jealous) were sex-crazed predators. Dwalin blamed Dori; the man had probably once read something about gay nightclubs and had meant to protect his baby brother. 

In the end, Dwalin brought up Thorin as an example for a completely harmless gay man, even though he knew that Thorin had, in his younger years, frequented gay bars and clubs whenever he was on the continent. And not only for the conversation. 

He also advised Ori to ask Fíli if he was unsure. And then Ori admitted timidly, that Fíli had already suggested something similar and had said much the same thing as Dwalin.

“See? That’s two of us. Just give it a try, Ori.”

“I think I will.” Ori’s voice was so soft now, Dwalin could hardly hear him. “I think they have a coffee meetup next week.”

“Grand! Just go!”

Dwalin even made sure to call Ori again to remind him to go. And Ori went there. As expected, Ori reported that he hadn’t talked much, but he had brought his knitting along, and a girl had asked about it so that was at least something. And it was, Ori admitted, just a nice coffee meetup with nice people. So he went again. Dwalin was relieved that there seemed to be no young student that kindled Ori’s interest.

 

***

 

At the end of November, a month after his visit, Dwalin finally found an excuse to go to Manchester again. 

He had recently shifted from being a police officer to training police officers; his years on the other side of the law made him a particularly good teacher, he was told. When they had a guest lecturer from Manchester in Dublin, Dwalin mentioned that he was likely to be in Manchester at one point and happy to share his experiences with recruits there. Two days later he got an email, and one week later, after much emailing back and forth involving Dwalin’s superior, he was officially loaned to the Manchester police academy for a week in November, to give a series of lectures and practical training on gang violence. In exchange, a teacher from Manchester would come to Dublin and lecture on the strategies Manchester police had to reign in hooligans.

 

Dwalin called Ori to let him know and tell him that he was looking forward to meeting Ori. To his surprise, Ori was offended that Dwalin even thought of going into a hotel.

“I thought we were friends,” Ori complained. “Of course you can stay here, no need to pay for a hotel.”

“The academy’s paying.”

“Still. Would you rather stay in a hotel than here?”

Dwalin had to admit that no, he wouldn’t. So it was agreed, Ori would pick him up at the airport again. And Dwalin endured Balin’s teasing and Thorin’s grave wellwishes. 

Thorin, who was still sometimes in disbelief that after years of believing his love to be unrequited, it turned out that Bilbo felt the same. He now hoped that his best friend would also find his happiness. 

 

***

 

Ori, meanwhile, also had to deal with a teasing brother.

“You invited him to stay with you?” 

Or sighed. He hadn’t even told Dori about this, but he hadn’t expected Nori to fuss. 

“There’s no need to be scandalized.”

“I think there is.” Nori’s voice was a curious mixture now, both worried and sly. “Dwalin has been cropping up a lot lately in your conversation.”

“It’s not like I know that many people,” Ori shot back. “And he’s very nice. He …”

“I know, I know. No need to repeat all his glorious deeds. Dori is going to lose his shit if you tell him you’ve got a new boyfriend who’s much older.”

“Dori met Dwalin.”

“And?”

“I don’t think he liked him much,” Ori admitted, and then he noticed that he had completely forgotten to deny his interest in Dwalin. 

Nori hadn’t, and continued to tease him until Ori ended the call.

He just hoped Nori would be sensible enough not to tell Dori. One never knew with Nori, when Dori provoked him, he would use anything to rile Dori up.

And it would be such an unnecessary discussion with Dori if he found out about Ori’s newest infatuation. He really doubted that Dwalin had more than a friendly interest in him. It was puzzling enough, but in a good way.

Dwalin was the best friend Ori had ever had. Fíli was great, and Ori felt that he’d always look up to him, but if he was honest with himself, it had never felt so comfortable to be with Fíli, no matter what Fíli had done to make Ori more comfortable, he’d had continually been overawed.

Dwalin, however, was the first person in whose company Ori was as relaxed as in his own.

That didn’t mean the preparation for his visit was stress-free, but by now Ori felt confident about buying the beer and he couldn’t wait to cook lasagna for Dwalin. 

***

 

Dwalin arrived on a Friday, so they had the weekend. The weather was bad, so on Saturday they went to an 80s style games Arcade in the north of the city. 

Both of them didn’t have much experience with arcade games, but a lot of enthusiasm. Dwalin was surprised to discover Ori’s competitive streak. Tongue sticking out, Ori focused on the screen, his face fiercer than Dwalin had thought possible, where his car was currently in first place.

And then he won, because Dwalin had spent too much time watching him. 

Dwalin did better than Ori at Space Invaders, but Ori was almost a pro at playing Qbert, and had a lot of fun explaining the game to Dwalin. 

They both geeked out when they played a Star Wars game, and while Ori was cursing at Pacman, Dwalin chatting with the proprietor, the proud collector of the machines. When the man told him “Defender” was one of the hardest games he had, both Ori’s and Dwalin’s ambition was awakened, and they spend the next hour mastering the game.

 

The only thing that soured the day a bit for Dwalin was the realisation that while he remembered Arcades and video games as something new and exciting, for Ori they were something that he had always taken for granted and that was soon outdated.

Because Ori didn’t like going to pubs or clubs, Dwalin was quite happy to stay in with him. Ori cooked a brilliant lasagna and then they watched the original Star Wars films, after being reminded of them at the arcade.

*

Sunday, Ori took Dwalin to the Science and Nature museum to show him “Baby”, the first computer to store and run a program. It had been built at Manchester University in 1948, and in 1998 a replica had been built from original parts. A volunteer demonstrated how the computer had worked; Ori told Dwalin that he’d been here plenty of times already, but it never lost its fascination. As a computer scientist, Ori was working in the tradition of those who built “Baby” and you could easily see the passion Ori had for his subject.

They then went to the Mill demonstration, experiencing the deafening noise of historic mill machinery to see how cotton was processed from its raw state to the finished product. Dwalin told Ori that much of his family’s wealth came from owning factories in the 19th century, among them cotton mills, and that exhibits such as these made him feel all the more uncomfortable about it.

They went through the other parts of the museum as well, and Dwalin bought a T-Shirt with the evolution of computers on it. Ori bought a mug with the stars on it for Dwalin.

After that, they found two seats at a Japanese restaurant just around the corner, where they could watch the chefs prepare the food. Both of them never had any Japanese food apart from Sushi, but challenged the other to try something new. It tasted much better than they had feared.

The weekend had been an unqualified success for both of them.

 

***

 

They had the first small argument Monday evening, while they were sitting at the table and ate the fish and chips Dwalin had bought on his way back from work. With plates and proper cutlery.

“I can’t go axe throwing!” Ori insisted, toying with a bit of fish.

“Sure ye can.”

Dwalin had been invited by some of the people from the Manchester police to come axe throwing Thursday late afternoon and he had asked if the friend he was staying with, could come to. Ori was welcome, but he didn’t want to go.

“I’m going to embarrass myself. I’ve got all the physical prowess of kitten.”

Dwalin chortled.

“It’s aboot the craig, Ori.”

And, of course, it was about hoping to impress Ori. Dwalin had been axe throwing before, and he knew he had a talent for it.

“Not my type of fun.” Ori hunched his shoulders now. “I’m … I’ve never been that manly.”

“Right.” Dwalin had to pause. He himself had always fit into the manly stereotypes. True, he had reevaluated his masculinity and his ideas about it after Thorin told him that he was gay, and didn’t fit into any ideas Dwalin had about gay men. And then he had figured out that he was bisexual and had struggled with that for a while. 

But he had never been a small, shy, gay man; to outsiders Dwalin had always appeared as scary and very masculine. When Ori didn’t fill the uncomfortable silence, he continued:

“Forget being ‘that’ manly. It’s good craig, just give it a go.”

“It sounds a bit scary,” Ori admitted.

“At first, mebbe. But ye don’t have to throw any axes, you can just come along to cheer me on.”

He was starting to feel that this was a bad idea, he knew that Ori was uncomfortable in groups of people and Dwalin expected him to join a group of strangers, plus Dwalin, to engage in an activity that was unfamiliar to him.

But to his surprise, Ori nodded slowly. “All right then.”

 

***

 

With a heavy thud Dwalin’s axe buried itself in the wood, among cheering from the group. All that counted for Dwalin, however, was the awed look on Ori’s face. 

Ori had initially been uncomfortable; the men and women they went with were all taller and broader than him, with loud voices and a thirst for beer, but he had been relaxing steadily.

Ori had ordered a pint of cider, but was still nursing the first one while everyone else was on round three. Dwalin was on round two, and thus still able to throw with accuracy. His direct opponent in this round had missed the target.

Ori had thrown an axe at the beginning, but as he had predicted he was no good. Dwalin had seen some grins in the group, but no comments were made, and Ori gamely cheered on the others, particularly Dwalin who was well on his way to win the tournament.

His final opponent was a quirky woman with purple lipstick and a lip piercing. She grinned at him, but also wobbled slightly. Nevertheless, Dwalin knew never to underestimate anyone. He focused on the task at hand with as much focus as always.

And hit the middle of the target. Her axe landed somewhere near the bottom, but at least it hadn’t fallen to the ground.

Dwalin was king of the evening and celebrated by buying everyone a round. He had actually scored so many points that he got a free t-shirt.

When they were in the taxi home, Dwalin asked Ori if the evening had really been that horrible. Ori’s eyes were sparkling when he shook his head.

“No! I’m shit myself, but it is so much fun to watch! Especially you! You’re a master!”

Dwalin hoped his smile was not quite as silly as it felt.

 

****

 

Friday, they both got the afternoon off and Ori took Dwalin to a yarn shop, or rather the showroom for a yarn dyeing workshop. He had been dying to go for ages but he always felt uncomfortable in small shops. When Dwalin pointed out that he felt a bit uncomfortable in yarn shops, because he knew nothing about yarns, Ori winked and assured Dwalin that they could protect each other.

 

So they went, and Ori was ecstatic, smiling from ear to ear. It was such an endearing sight. And Dwalin found a notice that there was a knitting group every Saturday and encouraged Ori to go there. Not that he wasn’t gratified when Ori said, that maybe he’d go, but not the next day, because Dwalin would still be there.

 

Back in Ori’s flat, Dwalin cooked a simple dinner of mashed potatoes, gravy and sausages, with a side of mushy peas, while Ori enthusiastically looked for projects for his new fancy wool.

Over dinner, Ori began talking about the coffee meetings Dwalin had pushed him to; he had been there four times now and thanked Dwalin for the encouragement. It was the only social activity he had outside of work and apart from the occasional visits of Nori and Dwalin.

“Ye might even meet somebody there,” Dwalin said, his face very neutral. 

“I meet a lot of people there.”

“I meant a nice lad, a boyfriend.”

“I doubt it.” Ori shrugged and dropped a few stitches. “Fíli was the only one ever to take an interest in me. I’m just not very attractive.”

“Bollocks.”

The force in Dwalin’s voice startled Ori, and he dropped even more stitches. In frustration, he put the work down.

“You’re just saying that,” he accused Dwalin, hoping that Dwalin didn’t notice his heightened pulse. 

“I’m not.” Dwalin crossed his arms, his voice becoming posher than ever. Ori had long figured out that this was how Dwalin spoke when he tried to avoid emotion. “I’d have helped any friend of Fíli’s or Kíli’s, they’re my best mate’s nephews, but I jumped at the idea of visiting you because … well meeting you in Ireland, I was struck as by lightning. And since then, I’ve just been falling harder. Of course, I don’t have any hope of your returning the affections of an old man like me, and I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but I wanted to let you now that Fíli is not the only one who ever ‘took an interest’ … and I doubt I will remain the last.”

It took Ori a while to react.

“You talk like you’re in your dotage,” he said. “And you’re not.”

“I’m twenty years older than you.” Dwalin looked furious now, but to his surprise Ori noticed that Dwalin was actually deeply upset and not angry at all. “I’ll be 51 next summer.”

“You’re very fit for your age, though.”

“Thank you.” Dwalin scowled again, but Ori was not frightened. 

“And yes, twenty years is quite much, but you’re not only handsome, you’re also so kind and so patient and and …” Ori wrung his hands. “You’re quite wonderful really and … and well, I ‘return your affections’.” He giggled nervously at the last bit.

“When you’re 51, I’ll be 71.” Dwalin crossed his arms stubbornly, as if that would calm his thumping heart. “I wouldn’t want to chain you to an old man.”

“First we’d need to stay together for twenty years,” Ori reminded him. Then he giggled. “Dear lord, usually it’s me who thinks too much. But right now I don’t think that we should get too caught up in the possible future.”

He boldly took one step closer to Dwalin and looked up. “I’ve fallen for you, you’ve fallen for me and that’s what counts, isn’t it?”

Dwalin looked down at him. Then he smiled broadly. “It is.”

He uncrossed his arms and allowed the happiness and relief flood through him.

“See.” Ori smiled, it was easy to smile with that cloud of fluff clogging his mind. This was really happening. A man he liked, liked him back.

 

Ori would never have believed that somebody as gruff as Dwalin would kiss so tenderly. Dwalin’s massive hands were light as feathers on Ori’s back. One hand moved up, and a thumb caressed Ori’s face, as if he was a precious artefact. It was a moment that should never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Littlelightlittlefire helped with the ideas of what activities Dwalin and Ori could enjoy in Manchester, thank you! I want to visit Manchester now :D
> 
> This is the link to the arcade: [Clickety Click](http://www.arcadeclub.co.uk/)  
> And to the axe throwing (they only opened in 2017 and this is 2014, but shhh): [Click me](https://whistlepunks.com/locations/)  
> The museum: [I'm a link](http://msimanchester.org.uk/)  
> and the yarn. [YARN](https://www.countessablaze.com/)


End file.
